Confessions of a Mormon Otaku

I probably should have written this yesterday, when the memory of it was fresh. Still, it's better than not writing it at all.

So if you didn't know already, I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Yesterday I went to church without any real expectations other than maybe getting a new insight on the scriptures or something. Just to give y'all some context, Latter-Day Saint church meetings are held in three-hour blocks. Sacrament meeting is first for my ward(congregation), and is where the members give talks(sermons) on Gospel subjects. Sunday School is next, followed by classes in Relief Society and priesthood(the women's organization and the men). In family wards there is also Primary(kids ages 3-12), Young Men and Young Women(ages 12-18), and Nursery(18 months to 3 years), but since my ward is specifically for single adults ages 18 to 30, we just have priesthood and Relief Society.

Sacrament meeting went fine, though nothing really stood out to me. It was Sunday School that the experience started. The lesson was on the Jesus's parable about the Prodigal Son. That's when the Holy Ghost hit me like a ton of bricks and got the tears going. I hadn't really strayed from the church, but it certainly felt like I was spiritually lost due to sins I had committed that I don't want to go into detail about. Let's just say I had to talk to my bishop about them and leave it at that. In any case, yesterday was the first time I had felt the Spirit so strongly in quite some time.

I had so many emotions running through me at that time. Sorrow for sinning, fear of what I had to do to repent, gratitude for the opportunity to repent and for the lesson being given, but most of all, I felt like my Heavenly Father was telling me " I love you. I want you to be happy. I want you to succeed in life. I want you to repent because I love you and want these things for you." I heard no voice saying these words, but I had the same feeling in my heart that I would have if there was a voice telling me those things.

I probably got the teacher a bit worried because the tears were flowing so freely. Fortunately, my ward is so very loving and accepting of both me and my linguistically delayed younger sister who goes with me. Why, that very day several folks tried to help her understand the word "expound" when it was said to her.

I didn't cry as much in Relief Society as I did in Sunday School, though the lesson was no less meaningful to me, even if I can't quite remember the exact topic. The whole rest of the day I was feeling spiritually wonderful. I didn't even go on Lord of the Rings Online like I had planned to after church because I felt that if I did go on, my spiritual high would be ruined, and that was the last thing I wanted to do after not having experienced such a thing in so long.

Why am I sharing this with y'all? One: because I felt the need to record what I felt. Two: because I want to share with you all that I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I am not afraid to say "Hey, this is what I believe to be true. This is what I stand for."

I realize that some of you will probably just dismiss this or ignore it. I know for a fact that one person on my friends list is an atheist and probably thinks this whole thing is stupid. But you know what? It really doesn't matter to me if you don't believe what I believe, or if you find this entry silly and pointless. What matters to me is that I make this entry in the first place. I can preach until I'm blue in the face, but it's your choice to use or ignore what I say.

I don't know how many folks on my flist actually celebrate Christmas. I just wanted to share this story that some real life friends gave my sis and I this month.

( Three Little Trees )

It's not really a Christmas story per se, but it doesn't really matter. What matters is that God has a plan for everyone. It may not be exactly what we had in mind, but it is always important in some fashion.